


New Beginning

by CasusFere



Series: Flash Fiction [7]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Abuse of Power, Humiliation, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasusFere/pseuds/CasusFere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron enjoys Onslaught's newfound loyalty. Onslaught, not so much. Flashfic</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Beginning

  
_Loyalty, only to me..._ Megatron looked down at the assembled Combaticons, a deep feeling of satisfaction running through him. It was an amazingly attractive thought, five rebellious mechs who obeyed no one, brought to heel and forced to bend knee to the mech they had tried to betray, not once, but three times. And now they were his and his alone.

When he'd had the Constructicons reprogrammed, they had their primary motivations altered, becoming Decepticons loyal to the cause, not to him. And as young and inexperienced and _idealistic_ as he'd been, he'd thought that it was the same thing. Vorns of Starscream at his back had taught him otherwise.

But the Combaticons, they were _his_. And he wanted to savor this victory.

Onslaught stood quietly, waiting. His posture was proper and attentive, but it always had been. Onslaught, who would listen to his orders, answer with a crisp “Yes, Lord Megatron,” then try to overthrow him as soon as the opportunity presented itself. A double-dealing turbo-fox of a mech if Megatron had ever met one, worse than the sniveling Swindle standing behind him. Did he realize how thoroughly he was caught now?

Megatron's fists clenched. He would learn. “Out,” he growled to the room at large. “Onslaught, stay.”

Soundwave and the rest of the Combaticons filed out without a word, the helicopter glancing back at Onslaught uncertainly. Megatron's optics narrowed. He'd deal with that one later.

“I said out, Starscream,” Megatron snapped.

“Mighty Megatron-” Starscream started. The whine of a fusion cannon's power-up sequence stopped him short, and he scurried for the exit, face set in an angry scowl.

Steepling his fingers, Megatron contemplated the waiting mech before him as the doors hissed shut, leaving them alone. Megatron on his throne, Onslaught at his mercy – even if the mech himself didn't yet understand just what that meant. If he had, he wouldn't be standing there so cool and dignified. Did the mech sense what was coming? Did he really think that this change in programming was his only punishment? He would make them rue not begging for his forgiveness all those vorns ago, after their first idiotic betrayal. Too arrogant, too independent, and now...

 _And now,_ Megatron thought, a nasty smile spreading across his face. “Onslaught, kneel,” he purred. The Combaticon obeyed, dropping to his knees, calm demeanor unruffled. That just wouldn't do. Megatron wanted to see him fight it, to struggle against him until he finally submitted in despair and humiliation. This passive obedience was more defiant than all of Starscream's snarling and backstabbing. Obedient until he saw the perfect opportunity, more patient than the Air Commander and more dangerous than Starscream could ever be. “So obedient,” Megatron said out loud. “And so disloyal. I think it is time to teach you a lesson on what your new programming means for you personally.”

“I live to serve, my lord,” Onslaught said, his tone precise and neutral. Unaffected.

Megatron stood and crossed the distance between them in two quick strides, grabbing Onslaught's chin and forcing the Combaticon's head up. “Yes, you do. More than you know.” His thumb stroked across the flat metal of the battlemask, then he clenched his fingers and ripped the battlemask off.

Onslaught made an aborted noise of pain, grimacing before managing to school his features into a mask of neutrality. Megatron took a moment to brush fingers gently across the Combaticon's exposed lips. “You're mine, Onslaught. Every servo in your traitorous body obeys me above all else.”

The sudden backhand blow sent Onslaught to the floor, his visor cracking in a spiderweb of lines. He pushed himself up, containing the rage that made his fingers twitch against the flooring.

“Come here,” Megatron purred. “And _crawl._ ”

Every line of Onslaught's body fairly screamed his rage as he obeyed, coming to kneel before Megatron again.

Chuckling, Megatron reached out to snap off the broken visor, tossing it away. “Look at me,” he ordered. Slowly, Onslaught lifted his head, helpless anger and humiliation burning in his optics. “You're _mine,_ ” he repeated. “To do with however I wish.” Lashing out suddenly, Megatron backhanded the Combaticon, knocking him back again. “Whenever I wish, however many times I wish,” he continued, stepping forward to plant his foot against the cables of Onslaught's neck, grinding down until Onslaught made a quiet pained noise.

“Beg me for forgiveness,” Megatron hissed. “Ask me to punish you the way you deserve.”

Onslaught's jaw clenched as he struggled against the programing, against the invisible bonds holding him. “Please forgive me, Lord Megatron,” he grated out, helpless fury written across his face. “Punish me.”

“Oh, I will,” Megatron said with a laugh. “Welcome to your new life, Onslaught.”  



End file.
